


Sweet Champagne

by WildIxia



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Day 2, Explicit Language, Friends to Lovers, Gladnis Week, Gladnis Week 2017, M/M, sass and fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-11 05:59:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12929010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildIxia/pseuds/WildIxia
Summary: Ignis knew he’d crossed the line when he couldn’t remember how many glasses of champagne he’d had.He couldn’t recall the last time he was drunk, if he ever truly had been, he rarely drank more than one glass of wine whenever he did happen to partake. But this month, this week—even this very day, he needed a reprieve. An escape.So, what was wrong with a little indulgence?--In which Gladio stumbles upon a drunk Ignis outside during a royal event. Written for Gladnis Week 2017, Day 2: "OMG so drunk..."





	Sweet Champagne

**Author's Note:**

> Didn't actually have something planned for Day 2 of Gladnis Week, but inspiration struck and I went for it. Enjoy! <3

 

 

Ignis knew he’d crossed the line when he couldn’t remember how many glasses of champagne he’d had.

_Five? Six? Ah well…I don’t even care anymore._

He couldn’t recall the last time he was drunk, if he ever truly had been, he rarely drank more than one glass of wine whenever he did happen to partake. But this month, this week—even this very _day,_  he needed a reprieve.

An escape.

So, what was wrong with a little indulgence?

Even if he did happen to be at a royal event, an engagement party for the daughter of one of the elder council members, where the entire royal court—including His Highness and His Majesty—were present. If he was caught completely _wasted_ in front of his charge and king, it would cause quite the fuss.

Especially since he was technically on-duty.

But _hell_ —when was he ever _off_ -duty?

Ignis sipped from the flute, draining the last few drops of the bubbly, sweet drink. He didn’t even exactly like champagne, but to go walk over to the bar—well, to walk _anywhere_ —was way too much effort and he just simply didn’t care anymore.

He’d been outside on the balcony of the ballroom for over an hour, his back sitting low in his chair, legs stretched out and extended with his feet resting on a table that definitely cost more than a month's worth of salary. But he had on his best wing-tipped shoes and they were fairly clean, not to mention polished, so Ignis figured it was a fair trade. This table was ornate and fancy, but he was dressed to the nines—the table wouldn’t care if such nice shoes were resting upon it.

_I’m considering the wants and feelings of a table…I’ve officially lost it._

Luckily for him, he was alone outside; the air a bit too brisk for those who didn’t have a shawl or sweater to throw on. He watched the people inside, mingling with their _fancy_ hair-dos, and _extravagant_ outfits, sipping their cocktails and laughing shrilly to each other. This is how these parties were—just people putting on a show. Bragging over their status, accomplishments, wealth; they didn’t actually _care_ , it was all about how others perceived _them_.

_When did I become so bitter?_

Maybe it was because this engagement party had nothing to do with the Crown, but with how the council member wanted to take advantage of his status as a member of the monarchy to use a royal _ballroom_ that could fit five hundred guests for a party of just fifty people. And maybe it was because Ignis was tasked with organizing the _entire thing_ because the father of the bride couldn’t be bothered to do it himself.

“ _You_ have free time, don’t you, Scientia? You organize all the prince’s events, make this a wonderful night for my precious daughter, will you?” Ignis muttered to himself, his imitation of the man scathing and sarcastic.

“Oh _of course,_ sir. I’ll call the caterer, the decorator, the band—oh, and the baker as well? Sure. I haven’t had a full night of sleep in four months, but I can make time for _you_.” He grumbled, grabbing his flute and leaning it back against his lips, forgetting that he already drank the last drop.

_Wonderful._

This meant that either he’d have to get up or wait for the server to come back around with more champagne. Lifting his leg off the table to rest his foot upon the ground, Ignis felt his head spin and decided that _nope_ , he was going to wait, and set his leg back up to join the other.

Turning his head, his eyes searched the ballroom inside, eyes landing over one of the taller figures in the room; dark hair tied back in a low bun, sides sporting a clean shave near his temples, wearing a fitted, custom tailored navy suit with a white dress shirt, his hands resting comfortably in his pockets as he conversed with a young lady in a black dress. Ignis didn’t know how it was possible for a man to look so _good_ in just about anything; from a suit to his gym clothes, Gladio was consistently stunning.

_I wonder who he’s talking to, perhaps a friend of the bride-to-be._

His fingers itched for another drink. A distraction.

_Ah. Perhaps this is why I’m having such dark feelings._

He’d always been watching Gladio, never finding the courage to close the distance—never wanting to take the risk that might jeopardize their friendship. Ignis snorted and rolled his eyes. _In love with your best friend, you’re pathetic. Look at him. It won’t be long until you’re organizing his engagement party too._

The worst part was that it was easy to picture. His unrequited lover arm-in-arm with his fiancée, smiling and giggling as she fawned over how wonderful Gladio was—how his proposal was romantic and perfect, how much her ring sparkled in the sun, how excited she was to spend the rest of their lives together.  

Champagne just wouldn’t cut it when that day came.

Let fantasies stay fantasies; a dream beyond the capabilities of reality would never come to fruition, no matter how hard he wished for it.

Gladio wasn’t meant to be his.

_Then who would be mine? This table? Sure, it does seem to like my legs draped all over it. I bet we could have a happy life together._

“Ignis, there you are—how long have you been out here?”

_The Gods are such bastards._

Standing before him was none other than the source of his self-deprecation; Gladiolus Amicitia. Of course, he was much more gorgeous up-close than beyond a window and across a grand room. A strong jawline, thick eyebrows, tendons in his neck that begged to be licked and sucked…

Of course, that wasn’t all Ignis wanted to suck. _Oh Shiva, help me._

Cutting off _that_ specific train of thought, Ignis opened his mouth to give a seemingly dignified response, but the neurons in his brain didn’t seem to feel like moving fast enough.

“I…don’t know.” He answered blankly, his eyes fixated on the lush eyelashes that curtained Gladio’s amber eyes.

Gladio hadn’t been expecting that kind of response and raised an eyebrow. “So…you’ve just been sitting outside for an unknown amount of time.”

“Mhm.” Ignis shrugged, crossing his feet together as he lowered even further in the chair, his body stretched out in the most unbecoming position ever held by an advisor to the Prince of Lucis.

“And by yourself?”

Ignis smiled, his hand lovingly patting the white iron framing of the table next to him. “Ah—no, this table has been lovely company by holding my drink for me and letting me rest my feet upon it.”

Gladio blinked at him. “Oh my god. You’re drunk.”

Ignis waved his hand, rolling his eyes. “Of course I’m drunk, Gladio. The man serving the champagne has been the only thing getting me through this _lovely_ gathering in celebration of a couple’s love and devotion for each other.”

Gladio barked a hearty laugh. “Who knew you’d be such a salty drunk, Iggy.”

Ignis shrugged once more, “Like you haven’t been drinking yourself.” It wasn’t a question, Ignis would’ve bet his left foot that Gladio needed at least one drink to survive being eye-fucked tonight by a horde of eager ladies of the high-court. _And by me._

Gladio sighed, pulling up a chair and seating himself across from the chamberlain. “I’ll admit, I’ve got a buzz going, but you are _drunk_. I didn’t think I’d ever see the day, if I’m honest.”

“Oh? And why is that?” Ignis asked, watching as Gladio’s elbow rested on the table, mere inches away from the soles of his shoes. If he bent his foot forward just a _touch_ , they’d be in contact.

“C’mon Iggy, don’t act like you don’t already know that answer. You are the most put-together person I know, always in control—always at Noct’s beck and call. I didn’t think you’d ever allow yourself to go beyond a little tipsy.” Gladio said, warmth intertwined with his low voice.

“I don’t.”

“Then why tonight?”

If he’d been sober, he’d been able to hold himself back. “Because I’m tired, Gladio.” Tired was an understatement, he was more than that. Exhausted, weak, full of longing for someone that he cannot attain. Come tomorrow, he’d be back in control…but tonight? He lost himself.

“Tired?”

_Don’t explain, you might give yourself away._

“Just…exhausted.” He gestured to the scene going on inside. “Planning this stupid party took up all of my free time. Besides, is such a lavish engagement party even necessary? I’d prefer a more intimate affair myself if I ever had one.”

That seemed to pique Gladio’s interest. “Oh? Have you thought about having a wedding before? You didn’t seem like the type.”

“Well…I wouldn’t say I’ve put _that_ much thought into it. I haven’t the time for love or a relationship right now.” Ignis said as his eyes avoided Gladio’s stare, it was obviously a lie, but Gladio wouldn’t be able to tell.

“Hm, you don’t talk much about love.” One of his hands reached in closer, fingers spread open, pads of his fingertips tracing the glossy edge of his shoes. The touch was light, but deliberate.

It sent a nervous flutter over his skin.

_I’m not drunk enough for this. Or is it the other way around?_

With his wonderful, _glorious_ timing, Ignis saw the server peek his head outside, his hand carrying a tray lined with the familiar flutes of golden liquid.

Ignis waved his hand over his head to get his attention. “Ah! My champagne man, you have arrived.” He yelled with enthusiasm.

Gladio gave him an odd look before shifting in his seat, eyeing the server as he brought his tray over to their table. Ignis took two glasses from him, setting one before Gladio as well as himself.

The Shield looked up at the server, “How many has he had?”

He laughed shyly, seemingly a little embarrassed from the attention, “Probably too many.”

Gladio sighed. “This’ll be his last, don’t let him take any more if he seeks you out.”

The man nodded before taking his leave of the balcony, “Yes, sir.”

Ignis huffed, “Party pooper.”

“And that’s exactly why I’m cutting you off. Never in my life have I ever heard you say the word ‘ _pooper’._ ” He laughed before sipping from his glass. Ignis watched as his lips formed around the edges, soft and plump as they cradled the side of the glass, his Adam’s apple bobbing as his throat constricted to swallow.

Ignis forced his eyes away and took a big swallow of his drink, the burn from the carbonation soothing, but uncomfortable at the same time. It made his head swim in a pleasant haze of light and airy sensations.

“Champagne’s pretty good—a little sweet, but it’s not half-bad.” Gladio said quietly, his tongue rubbing along the expanse of his lower lip, licking painfully slow over the soft skin. The older man raised the glass back to his lips and took a larger gulp, swallowing practically half the glass down.

Ignis couldn’t keep his eyes away nor help his nervous gulp as his toes curled beneath his shoes. He wanted that lower lip between his teeth, that hot tongue against his… _I want to know how it feels to be loved by you._ “Yes…perhaps a bit too sweet.” He agreed, speaking slowly, his words dragging for a little too long.

“Ignis.”

His eyes shot up to give Gladio his full attention, cursing mentally at himself for getting so obviously distracted by the Shield’s mouth.  

“It’s possible that I’m drunker than I let on.”

Ignis raised a curious eyebrow. “Is that so?”

Gladio’s stare was dark—penetrative. The hand that had previously touched Ignis’ shoe with a light grasp began to _move_ , sliding over the tip and down over the laces to rest upon the advisor’s shin. The touch was hot in contrast to the cold air around them, forcing an electric current to race through overstimulated nerves.

Gripping his champagne flute, Ignis couldn’t stop the gasp from escaping his lips as Gladio gripped his lower leg, thumb rubbing over the protrusion of his ankle before his hand started to drift _up_ , fingers pressing along the firm muscle of his calf—his pant leg straining to stretch far enough for Gladio’s hand to fit inside.

“Ignis.” He repeated, his voice deep and rough. “How long are we going to do this?”

Before Ignis could even _begin_ to process the man’s words, Gladio took each of Ignis’ legs and pulled them off the table. In one swift movement, he set each limb on either side of his hip and dragged his chair closer, forcing Ignis’ legs to bend and spread apart at the action.

“G-Gladio?” He exclaimed as he sat back against his chair, back rigid and body stiff as Gladio’s knees bumped the bottom of his chair close to his groin.

“How long have we been dancing around each other, pretending that _something_ isn’t there? I’ve seen the way you look at me, surely you’ve noticed my gaze as well.” Gladio said quietly, eyes glancing towards the people inside to make sure they were truly alone.

Ignis opened his mouth, eyes wide—mortified and confused, shocked and bewildered. “I—I...we—” He stuttered, heart lodged in his throat, his chest shaking with anticipation.

Gladio licked his lips. “Listen, the only way I could have enough courage to say this was if I was drunk, but I'm serious when I say I want you, Ignis. Every part of you. If this isn’t something you want as well, we can pretend this never happened and blame it on the alcohol. If you don’t see me that way, let me know and I’ll never speak of this ever again.”

His hand reached up, sliding the loose strands of Ignis’ hair behind his ear. He shuddered at the contact, a shiver crawling over his skin and making him tremble.

“So tell me…what do you want to do?”

Ignis finally found his voice. “You…love me?”

Gladio smiled, a wrinkle forming under his eye. “More than anything.”

_If I’m dreaming, never do I want to wake up._

Ignis set down his glass and leaned forward, shifting his body so that it was his knees straddling Gladio’s hips instead of his feet so he could slide on top of the older man’s lap, the tops of his thighs firmer than he had ever envisioned them to be. He rested his hands around the thick muscles of Gladio’s neck, cradling his face as he looked down into Gladio’s warm eyes.

Letting go of his inhibitions, doubts and fears, Ignis kissed him.

Gladio’s hands wrapped around the small of Ignis’ back and held him close, his fingers adding a delightful pressure against his body. His head spun; delirious from adrenaline and high from the ecstasy of Gladio’s soft lips against his. In his fantasies, their first kiss was heated and carnal, a kiss made from the desperation of the love they had for each other, but this was _sweet_ , shy and loving—oh, so loving.

_Reality was so much better._

Heart fluttering maddeningly, Ignis lifted his lips away and opened his eyes.

“I’ve loved you for so long, Gladio. I never thought that this was in a realm of possibilities.”

His smile was blinding, his excitement exuberant and bright. “Thank the gods for alcohol, huh?”

“I was sure—oh, so sure—that you’d never see me that way. I was resigned to never tell you.” How was this even happening? He was _straddling_ Gladio’s lap at a formal party with the entire court inside, so ignorant to the confession that just occurred.

“I had a feeling you were holding something back, we’ve been so close for so long that I began to think it wasn’t just in my imagination.” Gladio replied, his grin a permanent fixture over his face.

“And I’m drunk—you’re drunk, this is insane.”

“You drunk is my new favorite thing, but I think watching you not give a fuck is even better, Iggy.” Gladio’s hands rubbed along his back, but he didn’t let them roam lower, even if Ignis wanted them to.

“Not to disappoint, but it is a rare occurrence.” He laughed softly.

“A special occasion.” Gladio corrected.

“Right.” He agreed, leaning back down again to press his lips against Gladio’s—against his lover’s.

His eyes glanced at the white table next to them before drifting to a close.

_Sorry my dear table, guess I can’t be yours after all._

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Champagne might be my weakness, I just love that bubbly goodness. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!! <3 And Happy Gladnis Week, y'all!


End file.
